Among The Crows
by Vynxe
Summary: He had imprisoned her, waiting for her to break and submit to him and his love, but she was not about to bow her head without a rebellion. She bowed to no one. She was free. Thranduil/OC (M for mature content)
" _Well…this isn't how I imagined my evening to unfold…But when I think about it, this wasn't how I imagined my life to evolve either. No…I imagined a quiet existence inside a small cottage, a few children running around, and an uncaring husband that would eat more than the pigs I would care for while he went out to chop wood. That life I imagined myself living, a life so plain and unimportant, without so much as a spark of excitement. A disgusting, meaningless life; one lived without the thirst for it. That is no life, that is slavery, torment, something far worse than death. This path I chose to walk is suicidal; this is a real life, one you cherish and fight for every day, and I will take everything it throws at me, big or small, I will pass every obstacle and reach the end and then I will die willingly knowing I_ _lived_ _."_

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

The cloaked figure took her hood off and raised her chin up, dark strands of thick long hair falling over a pale, angular face. She slowly cracked her neck while eyeing the group of elves before her with the slightest of smirks, her eyes holding a spark of interest and tolerance – something she was famous for lacking when it came to other living beings. Especially _elves_.

Their armor glinted in the falling sun's rays, their slim postures propped into battle stances, believing they would intimidate her enough to make her fall to her knees and hope for mercy, but unfortunately for them today the bounty hunter wasn't in a bright enough mood to play the innocent weak woman act. She was aggravated, tired, bitchy, deadly, and they were standing in her way.

Each held a bow drawn, arrows pointing at her bloodied frame while she just stood there, unshaken, unbreakable, bored even.

She waited for them to pull back, lower their ranged weapons and just turn and leave her to her busyness, but when she saw they wouldn't budge she refrained from twisting her neck from side to side and dipped her pointy chin, a scowl bittering her already grim and unfriendly features.

She was covered in spider slime, it was sticky and unpleasant, it caused her fingers to detach from each other with difficulty, preventing her from letting go of the giant arachnid head in her hand, and her clothes to stick to her and rip away any hairs she had coating her body. The sour smell it gave off made the elves cringe, some of them had tears in their eyes, being unable to take in the sharp pheromone scent.

They made her scoff and shake her head lightly. She hadn't expected less from their high and mighty race – to be disgusted by a few spilled guts.

Apparently her hateful stare was scary enough to frighten a bear if they were ready to shoot her because of it. It was either that or because she carried the massive spider queen's head in her hand and was covered from head to toe with insides. Maybe it was both, but that matter wasn't of primal importance, if the measly elves wanted to shoot her they would find a reason to.

Her nose wrinkled in disgust when she heard the spider's sharp fangs snap twice from the few jolts of life preserved in its reeking blood, which was spilling out on waves from the clean cut that had brought death to the monstrosity.

Suddenly that warm, delicious supper she had been daydreaming about on her way out of the cave didn't seem all that alluring to her anymore.

"Evening." she uttered in a flat, yet polite voice and pressed her free hand against the knot keeping her cloak secured over her slumped shoulders.

A redheaded elven woman appeared from behind the wall of archers and curtly yelled out a command in a language unknown to the cloaked stranger. In an instant the warriors pulled back, straightening and lowering their bows, but their eyes still bore holes in her chest, not that she cared much to acknowledge that.

They were looking at her like she was some sort of beast that would lung at them the moment they let their guard down, which wasn't far from the truth if they persisted on keeping up their "all-humans-are-primitive-animals" act. She could ignore them for as long as she wanted, but she wasn't about to stomp over her own self-respect just to win their favor.

"The spiders?" the redhead questioned in a milky, sweet voice and pointed her head towards the spider den "What has become of them?"

It was clear to all that the nest was too quiet and left unguarded, something the mother spider would never allow. And even if one failed to note that _and_ the hardly unnoticeable trophy in the stranger's grasp none could fail to see that there were no spiders anywhere…not just the guards that were protecting the young and the eggs were missing, but also there were none hiding within the webs, no scouts nor hunters, not even newborns. They were gone…either gone or dead.

No matter what had become of them the elves knew one thing – this woman, this little, cloaked human woman, was involved.

"Dead." the stranger answered simply and leaned her upper body back before switching her weight on one foot and letting her head fall tiredly to one side.

It had been a long and tedious task to complete and she had hoped to ride to the village where she had found the wanted poster, claim the gold for her job and retire for the night at the local inn. However, her plans were postponed by these nimrods and honestly she was getting to the point where she would just turn her back to them and leave, but common manners and the chance to avoid potential battle with them pulled her back.

The silence among them became heavy, thick with anxiety and discomfort from them and rich with annoyance and haggardness from her. All these sensations seemed to clash and make the staring contest that had begun a moment ago that more intense.

The atmosphere was so full of disbelief it made the woman put a fist over her chin and clear her throat to hide her laughter, her growing impatience and thirst for rest forgotten.

It was obvious to the elves that it was she who had cleared the spider den, single-handedly since there were no companions to be found around her. Still, their mistrust was stronger than their sight because she was still questioned like a lowly criminal.

"What happened to them?" the elven woman, their leader, asked and squinted her eyes at the cave, trying to spot some sort of movement, but was left unsatisfied. Truly there were no spiders left alive, or even if there were, they had somehow escaped during the massacre and were now roaming alone and would eventually die out without the protection of their hive.

"I happened to them."

The stranger turned to the forest behind the elves and whistled, the sound sharp, curt and loud – a beckon. It echoed through the trees before a high-pitched squeal answered from the shadows and a dark brown horse emerged, trotting energetically towards his apparent owner like a child called by its elder.

The woman pulled a thin rope from the leather pocket strapped to the horse's side and tied the spider queen's head to the saddle, being careful as not to stain her mount's groomed fur before flinging herself up.

"Farewell, gentlemen and lady." she gripped the reins loosely and gave a light bow before looking ahead at the hills she was to head towards. Her eagerness to eat and sleep had returned fast and she was more than happy to oblige to those needs after receiving her payment.

"Anquale?" the elven woman called shakily before the stranger was about to set off.

She straightened on her steed and faced the redhead fully. They didn't blink while staring at each other – a test to see the truth, if this mortal was the one who bore the famous title that had so easily slipped from the elf's mouth.

"So…" the bounty hunter muttered and turned her horse to meet eyes with the rest of the elves "Word has spread even among the highest of races, I see. Tell me, elves, do people tell of my glorious deeds? Of how I kill beasts and save children from death?"

The joking note in her voice wasn't obvious enough apparently because some of the elves nodded and placed their hands on their chests in greeting, some knew why, others didn't yet still followed their comrades' actions like brainless sheep. Suddenly she was worthy of their respect, which was the least bit laughable; in her opinion they bent their knees much too easily to a common stranger.

"They do, Mi-lady. It's an honor." one of the warriors answered before their redheaded leader could and was met with a blood freezing chuckle.

"Telltales…all of them." the cloaked stranger shook her head, the pitiful smile still on her face showing off strong, fairly white teeth "Miracles do not exist, nor do heroes. I kill to survive. And whatever it is you've heard is nothing but lies mothers tell their children so that they may fall asleep without a fuss."

People gossiped every day and night about the heroic deeds of a cloaked somebody killing monsters and saving villages and soon there were wanted posters scattered in every inn, town hall and store in hopes that soon she would arrive and protect the people from harm. Legends foretold of how sharp her blades were, how perfect her aim was, how she knew natural remedies that could cure incurable diseases, tell the future by the stars and sniff out beasts from miles. In truth people were scared, terrified to leave their homes, blink and even sleep. They knew every breath could be their last and to them she looked unbreakable, a god among mortals, so they did what they could to keep their crushed hopes alive – they idolized her. They gave her a new name, threw money and blessings at her and kept their fingers crossed she would save them. Not if she could, but that she would. They worshiped her, she was their only light in the darkness.

And here she sat atop a horse, a normal woman, complete with every living creature's desire for rest, food and drink, the possibility to bleed, fall ill and die, to fall in love and to nurture hatred. She was just as mortal and human as all the rest were, but it was they who refused to see past their own blindness. It saddened her. She pitied their false hopes and childish believes, but in the end they were their own; she had no right to judge them, just smile sadly whenever all they thought was true came crumbling down like an old fortress.

Sage Winterburn was a homeless bounty hunter, without a family to return to, with more scars than a retired soldier, with a hardened face and simple cravings. She killed for money because she could, she survived on the need to rid a village of a beast lurking somewhere near it, she was used to sleeping in lice infested beds, with the dogs, on trees or even on an open field where she was easy prey for any hungry creature. She didn't need much to sate her hunger and quench her thirst and she rarely contracted sicknesses; whenever she did it was from populated places like castles or overpopulated towns. The cold could never freeze her enough to tie her to a bed and bring her an illness, nor did any of her wounds fester unless she literally rubbed dirt over them. She lived like an animal, but she didn't mind her life, she never had, not even when her family had passed away and soon after her home had been torn apart by bandits.

Sage was a plain woman with a plain life and she intended to keep it that way.

"I'm just another human struggling to keep a roof over my head and my belly full. You will do wise not to believe everything you hear on the road or in villages. I. Am not. A hero. Remember that, elf." she dipped her chin and gave them one last, memorizing look "Farewell."

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

The inn was blooming with life, people – men, women and children alike danced around with tankards in their hands, food in their mouths and sang their hearts out for the monsters that no longer threatened their large village. Full dishes were passed around the small dining area overflowing with villagers of all statuses and years, squeals from the maids would frequently cut through the mirth and laughter whenever a rough hand found its way to grip onto their round bottoms. The cooking fires roared and raged under countless bubbling giant iron pots and cauldrons filled to the brim with food. The flames of the candles danced along with the customers, following the flow of the wind born by the sharp moves of sweaty, rejoicing people. Young lasses were throwing their skirts around cheekily, placed atop the old wooden tables for all to see them in their full glory, even the innkeeper could be found clumsily stumbling onto the counter while he tried to catch up with the tact of the younglings, just too damn happy about the fullness of his tavern to care about how unbelievable he looked from aside. Glasses flew and so did punches, buns of hair were released and kisses were exchanged and quite a few couples took their leave and retired to the second floor of the inn to continue their newly discovered passion. Spilled ale and pork stew caused numerous drunken heroes to slip and fall while they were bravely replaying the battle between the bounty hunter and the hive of spiders.

"One against hundreds!" one old codger yelled over his full mouth and a fork in hand, his beard holding chunks of bread and sauce while his eyes burned with life "A hunter of demons!"

"A savior!"

"A god!"

Sage pulled the hood farther over her head and continued to listen to the joy heating up the old, torn down inn while enjoying her last few spoons of cooled down stew. The flames from the fireplace warmed her back, the pleasantly burning sensation calmed her strained muscles while she basked in the happiness of the crowd and laughed at the drunken men's idiotic remarks and clumsy dueling with elegant, fearful spoons they used as replacements for swords.

The spider's head hung in front of the tavern's doorstep, causing old and young to bite their tongues in fright and awe. Well the beast wasn't pretty for sure and even when dead and holding no threat people still made sure to step away from it before entering to join in the festivities raging on that night

Some brave souls had even claimed that they had killed it and they had brought it back seeing as no one saw the face of the person who had returned with the gory trophy. Sage didn't mind one bit; she just wanted to have her horse cared for and a meal to enjoy before a bed to lie in for the night. The village men could steal her spotlight all they wanted, she didn't feel the need to shine in it, just wanted the gold, but she did admit that seeing the mirth her deeds gave life to was pleasant to watch, it almost made her feel like she wasn't a complete jackass.

She snickered at the women who warmed their men's necks with heavy slaps from their labor worn hands.

The brides, young and old, were laughing at their husbands saying they were going to leave their lives as mothers and housewives and search for the famous Anquale to take them in as pupils. They talked of the adventures that would await them behind every corner, how their blood would boil as it once had when they were but lasses, far from being wed and were free to roam the fields and labor without their bones aching and moaning.

This was definitely a sight to see.

The village was remarkably big, something that was uncommon for these times of war. The villagers were fat and healthy, strong and bright, they still carried the signs of hard work, but didn't look even the slightest bit tormented by it. People all around the continent were starving and dying out, they were barely able to scrape by, it was the same story in every village she had stopped by for the night, excluding this one. The soil here was fertile, the weather was kind and there was a river not too far away from the village. Life was easy here and with that came the large amount of humans. The population here was…uncanny and it made her frown that she would survive and keep living and these people wouldn't. It wouldn't be too long until the settlement was overrun by orcs and its inhabitant made either slaves or were just killed and skinned for their meat. The orchish tribes have seemed to ravage more and more human and dwarven villages as the years went by. It was one of the reasons why Sage refused to settle down; she could fight well, but her chances to stand against a whole army of massive men at least twice as strong as human ones were crushed to a minimum.

With a slow flick she ran her last piece of bread over the bowl, gathering what little salty pork stew was left on its clay bottom before guiding it to her mouth and forcing it down with a mouthful of booze. A burp rouse up her throat and came out as an odd hiccup, which made her slightly jump in her chair and put a fist to her mouth.

With a rub to her left eye and a set of dry coughs she checked to see how much drink was left in her scratched tankard. Not that she could actually see much under the dim light of the candles, but it was enough to tell her how much more she had left before deciding whether she would retire for the night or whistle to the maids for another refill. In the corner where she sat one could barely make out anything, but she had grown accustomed to the darkness and the fireplace and candles still gave a few scarce rays of light.

Another sip and another thought floated to the surface of her mind.

Alcohol was something she had never tasted as a child, or even a young woman on the brink of marriage. Her parents had just never let her try it, saying it ruined people, that it was foul, a deadly and slow poison. And it wasn't as if she had been dying to know of its flavor, she had been too busy running along with the herd of cows her farm had owned. It wasn't until she began travelling and seeking her luck that she began drinking heavily and thankfully she could hold it, not for too long, but it was enough for her to crawl to a bed or another kind of safety before she let the intoxication knock her out. The aftermath, however, was something she couldn't control all that well, but a big bowl of cabbage juice was always able to get her back on her feet.

A firm hand was placed on her covered shoulder, which made her straighten her slouched back, pull her elbows off the old table and turn back enough to face her disturber with a blank look.

"Care to join, lass?" a large, bearded man kept a hold on her small shoulder, slightly wrinkling her cloak. He offered her a wide, friendly grin before stepping lightly to the side to reveal the wild dances that were shaking the inn's wooden floor "Eh? What ya say?"

Women and men were holding hands in a long line and were jumping together, each following a different tact, but the merriment was to the ceiling, and whoever hadn't still joined was clapping hands excitedly and yelling along with the broken, almost unrecognizable song.

Sage waved a hand before her face and raised her tankard in wordless explanation, but apparently the bearded giant refused to accept that as a reasonable excuse.

He roared in laughter and shook his head, a hand going up to run over his short, dark brown hair as he looked down upon her. Childish vigor glinted in his eyes – the mountain of a man was up to something.

"Problem solved!" he gasped after swallowing the rest of the drink and setting the empty tankard on the table with a loud thump, his hand releasing hers as she had been too slow to let go of the handle when the man had raised it to his small, red lips "Come on, lass!" he yelled, his thickly accented voice making the flames of the candles tremble, and tugged her off her chair with ease.

Maybe it had been the ale pumping through her blood, or maybe she had gone too long without a good time, but before she realized, Sage, the great bounty hunter, slayer of monsters big and small, was laughing her lungs to pain while being spun around by her massive partner.

She was a sloppy dancer, far worse than any other woman she had seen during her travels, but her light step compensated. She twirled around the mountain of a man, whose laugh made the dishes scattered across the floor and tables shudder, her eyes having it difficult to take in all the movements in her surroundings, but she didn't care. She just didn't, she was too drunk, too loose to think how pathetically stupid she looked from aside; she was part of the crowd so she didn't stand out enough for others to point their fingers at her.

Shoulders crashed into each other, bodies bumped together, feet stepped over one another, yet the people were too high off of their own happiness to mind.

Sage's partner threw her around without any difficulty, as if she was a piece of cloth, while stomping lively around the crowd of villagers.

He easily stood out seeing as he was the largest man among the villagers. He was well built for a commoner – strong hairy arms, a wide back, a massive jaw and a thick, wild beard covering it, a set of cheeky green eyes and small cherry lips that never lost the smile gracing them. If the hunger for life didn't pull at her heart with such force she would have stayed and probably settled with him. He didn't look the type to have married yet, he was far too energetic and radiating frolic and testosterone, something a man with a family greatly lacked.

Maybe she would return to him one day after she grew tired of exploring the world and gathered enough gold to keep her well and fed until her passing.

She wanted to know his name so she leaned down attentively as to not fall from his arm and stopped by his reddened ear, ready to ask in a whisper before jerking back suddenly at the alarming sound of the inn's doors opening.

They were opened tauntingly slow, the screeching tearing through the drunken merriment; the clapping stopped, the wide grinning mouths that sang along went silent, voices got lost, and laughs were cut short. The long line of people froze and Sage's partner went stiff while holding her lifted up in the air. Even the fireplace seemed to calm down with the arrival of the new guests.

Four elven warriors were standing tall and proud at the entrance, their armor glinting, polished to perfection. Their eyes were filled with disgust as they skimmed over the primitive habitat the humans were all gathered in. The elves looked upon them like they were a herd of animals cooped up in a barn.

That was what she despised about their nature – they thought they were higher in the food chain, that they were far better than normal plain humans and dwarves. They thought they were better when they couldn't clear out a den of slimy, lowlife spiders while she could do it alone and come out of the battle without so much as a scratch.

She saw their twinkling orbs stop on her and their heads rise slightly in unspoken victory.

They had found her.

Well she wasn't hard to find considering she was lifted over the crowd by the large man and the only village within close range of the spider den was this one.

A bitter scowl made her face grim under the light of the candles while she stared back at them with a sinister glare.

"Anquale." one of the warriors voiced in a light elvish accent, apparently he had been at the den because a look of remembrance twisted his features when his light colored eyes found her plain black ones "May we speak?"

At first her seeker had debated whether it was her or not, it had shown on his their faces even behind the golden helmet, but the piercing glare she had greeted him and his companions with had refreshed his memory.

Sage pressed her palms flat on her giant man's shoulders while he set her down and gave him a pat on the hairy arm before walking out of the inn, ignorant of the unblinking stares that burned the skin clear off her neck.

Her shoes clicked heavily against the floor before she stepped out, letting the guards close the doors behind them and lead her away to the corner of the tavern where the stables were.

She was sure the people had gathered around the windows and had their ears pressed to the walls in an attempt to learn the reason behind the elves' arrival, but didn't feel the need to scare them away with an icy glance. Cheeky gossipers they were, every last one of them, but it wasn't her problem to deal with. The elves had brought it upon themselves to be observed like they were and Sage wouldn't lift a finger to ease their awkwardness even if they did look to her for a solution.

Nope, the hell with these slim bastards.

"Gentlemen." she greeted and bowed her head with a small smirk while they struggled to keep their faces as stoic as possible "To what do I own your pleasant company?"

Her voice dripped with venom, her eyes were as sharp as knives and her smirk was quickly replaced with a thin frown. She crossed her arms and leaned her weight on one hip before placing one foot against the wall of the tavern and leaning back, waiting.

One of the elves cleared his throat and stepped forth to speak.

"Our king has requested a meeting, my lady. He wishes to see the human who single-handedly protected his land from eventual arachnid invasion." he shuffled his hand within the pouch on his hip and pulled out a letter with a green wax seal over the lid "Will my lady accept?"

"Does your lady really have a choice?" Sage asked, mocking their perfect speech and formality.

It made her sick to the stomach how fake and twisted these beings were. They always hid, never showing what they truly felt and thought, they were like dolls, awful, snobby porcelain dolls that knew only to look down upon others. She spat on them and their ways and she would gladly turn away from their king if she didn't already know that refusing was an option she wasn't given the freedom to choose.

The silence she was presented with as an answer made it clear as daylight. She couldn't refuse; she knew the moment she took the letter from the warrior's gauntleted hand.

The elven king was known for his temper and cruelty, but he was patient even if he was just as cold on the inside as he was on the out. He had thrown countless in his dungeons, letting them rot and decay while he ruled over his people with tyranny and fright. He was no king, nothing separated him from the monsters she slew every day. He was just as low as them…if not more.

She sighed looking down upon the royal yellowish envelope.

Technically she was given a choice – either go willingly and face their king or be taken in as a prisoner because she had trespassed on elven land without permission or the informing of the kingdom. When it came to law and order one could always find a gap, a small exclusion or even a way to accuse an innocent, and Sage knew that their king would find something to bring her to him. And with her lacking skill when it came to politics she wouldn't be able to fight him back.

 _"To hell with their stupid laws!"_ she thought, a sour taste coming upon her tongue while she continued to stare at the elven guards with a scornful look.

She wanted to bite their pretty faces off.

Hating or not she was going regardless; it was up to her if it would be while struggling against their grasps or riding beside them as an honorable guest to the kingdom. The elves rarely let anyone that wasn't of their race walk their lands, and it was even rarer when it was by the king's request.

Well…this wasn't how she had planned out her night to end, but she didn't really have the option to choose an alternate ending so she would go along as far as her strained nerves let her.

With a heavy sigh she rolled her eyes and flicked her tongue before sloppily gesturing forward with her hand.

"Lead the way."

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

Sage was a patient woman, the years of bounty hunting had taught her to wait as much as needed and never rush unless the time called for it. Many times she had been reminded of that the hard way and she carried plenty of scars to prove it. She had nerves or iron when it came to her tasks, but whenever a cocky bastard that couldn't see past his self-esteem crossed her path she failed to keep calm and just walked away. But aside from that she could endure quite a lot before snapping. However, her patience was absent tonight and she was fighting hard with the itch in her feet, which screamed for her to just stand and leave this massive oak wonderland and go back to the village. She would eventually find her way out of this labyrinth, but the last thing she needed on her back was a furious king, so she stayed put and instead took her patience out on the tip of her long thick braid.

The tips of her hairs were starting to split and her usual murky brown color had lightened to a light chocolate pallet, golden even. She needed a haircut and a long bath; if she had had enough time she would have stayed in the inn's bathing area all night. She would have plucked out the sand, pebbles, leaves and small twigs from her messy braid and would have washed the long black mane with care after untangling it. And why wouldn't she? The damn thing had saved her life more than once whether it would be by getting stuck on a branch while she was falling from a tree after trying to find a place safe enough for slumber or it would stop numerous bloodsucking monstrosities from sinking their teeth in her neck whenever she had coiled its length around herself like a scarf.

She missed the coquette pampering most women received daily, like a warm bath or a fresh meal, but she was in no place to complain. This was the life she chose instead of marrying a rich fat pig that would probably stay a virgin for the rest of his life. This life was better. At least now she had the freedom to choose what she would do tomorrow.

"Where the hell is everyone?!" she groaned tiredly and rubbed a palm over her dirty forehead before leaning back in her throne like chair. She moved a bit, getting accustomed to the alien feeling of being sat on such a large chair and sighed. Her hands wrapped around her waist and her head lightly hung down. She closed her eyes slowly and took in a long breath, keeping it for a while before releasing it.

It was becoming too tedious to stay awake and with there being no one around her she was having it quite hard to keep herself from drifting off.

"Good evening." a thick, rich with depth voice chimed, making Sage crack open an eyes and gather herself from her slumped position and instead lean forward to put her elbows on the table "My apologies, I did not expect my meeting to take up so much of our time together."

The king, in all his glory, walked with a slow and cocky step, his silver robes trailing behind his tall, lean form. His silky hair clung to his wide shoulders while he moved to the massive table where various foods and drinks were displayed for the eye to feast upon.

Well he sure looked pleased with himself. And were these treats always left out for servants to drool over or was there a special occasion Sage had missed? Either way her interest in what the highly ranked elf wanted from her was far greater than the countless small wonderings twirling in her head.

He flicked his hand lightly while sitting down on his grand throne and in an instant the wide doors were pushed open and a small elven maid appeared from behind them, her pretty face clean from any dirt unlike her worn out dress.

The maid quickly scurried towards her superior and with shaky hands took a large crystal jug filled to the brim with wine, quietly gasping from its weight while filling the silver goblet standing next to the king's ring graced hand.

He ordered her away with a simple glance before turning towards his newly arrived guest.

Sage stood from her seat.

"Your majesty." she addressed, bowing clumsily, mocking him subtly, and searched for his reaction from under the loose strands of hair that hid her murky orbs from sight.

A flame flashed in his eyes, but he let her greeting slip by. He raised the goblet to his lips, all too relaxed in his throne. His every gesture was smooth and elegant, but at the same time daring, coyly trying to lure her to let her guard down enough for him to see past the stories that were told of her deeds. He wanted to ensure that a mere human was not stronger than his grace; he wanted to prove everyone wrong, wanted to break her and show she was no god.

He wanted her to submit to him on her own will. He thrived to see her squirming beneath him, vow her loyalty to him, admit that he was the dominant and she was the dominated. But her unshaken face, her bored look and free actions…How could someone break water? She had no debts to anyone, she bowed to no king, she had no weight on her shoulders aside from her own bones and flesh. She was truly no man's property.

"Your reputation precedes you, Anquale…Death." he set his drink down and she was sure the stray droplet of blood red wine he slowly wiped from his bottom lip was purposely left to catch her attention "You have my gratitude for accepting the invitation. I wanted to meet the killer of the menace in person."

He was taunting her, beckoning her to lung at him, to do something unforgivable so he could lock her away and keep her as a prized trophy. He wanted her to prove that she too had flaws; just like any other unimportant mortal human.

"Welcome." Sage simply answered and raised the unknown fruit she had bitten into in the air, honoring the fact someone with such high status had seen her as noble enough to bask in her company "My king." the last part came out with a sly smirk.

He knew she was mocking him and it interested her just how far he would let her teasing slide before he threw her in the dungeon.

"What is your name, bounty hunter?"

How could she be so unbothered by his presence? Did she feel no strain? Did she even possess any manners and self-respect? By the way she was acting apparently no.

"Anquale." she raised a brow at his question, a small rebellion against him wouldn't hurt anyone.

Apparently his interest in her exceeded his annoyance with her attitude. And she _had_ ridden at least an hour before reaching the kingdom just to please him so she saw it fit to let herself play with his patience, after all, he did proclaim himself as a tolerant elf.

"Death." he repeated in common human and guided a plump grape to his faintly tinted mouth "Not many know the meaning behind your name, yet they praise it with such devotion."

"True." she smirked and twirled a small biscuit between her fingers before biting into it without any hunger forcing her to hurry it down her throat; eating without feeling the need to felt so unreal that it caused her to make a face while she chewed it away, relishing its sweet flavor "But that is their problem alone. I know what it means and I don't mind it. It is what they chose. Personally speaking, I was very comfortable with my own name."

"What is your true name then?"

Sage gave him an untrustworthy look from behind the treat in her hands before rising in her chair and leaning her shoulders back against it.

The need to ask for the reason behind his questioning was tugging at her tongue, however, she preferred to keep her mouth shut about the subject. His reasons were his alone and as her superior she would do wise to not ask about the core of his interest in her. With time she would find out be it the easy or hard way and it was her patient that would determine which way it would be.

This was not because of a mere spider hive, he wanted something personally from her, but he let off far too little information for her to be able to put together the pieces. She was left blindfolded and only he could open her eyes, although he didn't seem to have that in mind. He was a cunning elf, he would do everything to receive whatever he desired and until she left this forsaken kingdom she was under his mercy. It made her sick how much power he had over her.

"Sage." she said "My name is Sage. And if I might ask." the bitten off biscuit in her throat dried off her mouth so she paused and took a long drink from the goblet of wine beside her "What is His majesty's name?"

She was half expecting him to throw a fiasco because of her lack of knowledge or at least try to burn her to the ground with a deadly glare. Somehow high ranked people took everything as an insult, even greeting them wrongly could make them put a bounty on one's head. After learning that from personal experience, the woman did everything in her power to stay the hell away from them and their oddities; after all the bounty on her head was still going.

Sage wasn't familiar with royalty so she had no idea if it was impolite to ask for a name. He did ask for hers, but she was a commoner while he was king. Did she have to know his name and his history as ruler? Both way she didn't and she wasn't about to start guessing.

"Thranduil."

Sleep was heavily pushing down on her eyelids and shoulders and with his velvety voice causing shivers to run down her spine she could barely keep herself seated appropriately. The fluency of his speech lulled her until her head fell in her hand, her falling over her eyes to shield them from the harsh lighting. She had lost the trail of the subject he ranted so devotedly about a while back and was now just enjoying the deepness and calmness of his tone and even though he spoke her language as to not confuse her to Sage it was still incomprehensive. She was just too lost in her rumbling throat, his undying love to speak and her own fatigue.

However when she realized that his creamy lips had settled and were now unmoving she gave her eyes a gentle rub and raised her brows while trying to blink away the sleep that was so persistently haunting her.

"Almighty king Thranduil!" she exclaimed and stood up to bow again "It was a pleasure to meet you in person. The tales certainly capture your grace and brilliance well. However, it is very late and I wouldn't want my king to miss out on much needed sleep because of a lowly bounty hunter such as myself."

The woman flexed her shoulders, greatly failing at presenting her feminine side to the elven king, dusted her cloak harshly from the dirt that had glued itself to it during the ride and took in a deep breath.

"If your majesty will let me, I shall take my leave."

Sage turned onto her heel, ready to stride out and begin looking for a way out of this grand woodland while trying to remember exactly which paths she had taken when the guards had lead her.

"Very true, bounty hunter."

She heard Thranduil stand, his silver robes making him glow bright like the moon that had been absent from the sky that night, and slowly walk towards her, stopping when he was beside her, their arms slightly caressing each other. He raised a long fingered hand up and the room began to flood with young, small elven women, each with a worn dress, the stains gracing them foretelling her duties in the kitchens.

She saw him with her peripheral vision – he glanced down at her for a brief moment, seeking what her reaction would be from their sudden closeness. His enchanting smell invaded her sensitive nostrils as soon as he shifted and she had to bite her lip to prevent the sly smirk from crossing her face.

He was certainly trying to impress her and so far she was, but not because of his attire or the fact that he had used aromatic oils. She was far more astounded by how far he had gone to try and catch the attention of a simple bounty hunter like herself and leave an imprint in her memory. The king carefully prepared himself to look his best while she smelled of beer and sweat and still had the sticky clothes soaked with spider blood clinging to her worn and aching body. Hell, she looked worse than a beggar and he was somehow still standing next to her without even cringing.

Now that is what she found truly astonishing.

"The servants will guide you to your personal chambers and prepare you a bath."

She felt his sleeved arm brush against her own, the texture of the fabric like warm water on her bare skin. She almost shivered at the tickling sensation. For a cold hearted monster slayer she still had a few major flaws she needed to cover up and hide from the world – like how extremely ticklish she was or how she left out the carrots from her meals and instead gave them to her horse or just threw them away. She might have looked childish, but it was who she was – a cranky, bitchy, cold woman with a tongue sharp enough to make a dwarf bite his words back and eyes so harsh they forced people on their knees if they didn't turn away from her. It wasn't the best self-description she could think of, but it was by far the truest one so she stuck with it, although some of the adjectives she preferred not to admit out loud.

Then it hit her.

"Wait…what?"

"Rest well, Anquale." Thranduil gave her an elegant bow, a hand over his heart, and left, leaving her literally gawking at his tall frame as it disappeared in the halls.

She hadn't missed to note the evident satisfaction in his icy blue eyes. He had won whatever game he had been playing with her and had gotten his prize – her presence.

How hadn't she thought of it sooner? This was no gratitude party; it was a damn façade to keep her long enough so she would become too tired to reject his offer to let her spend the night.

He wasn't just eating away her time, he was keeping her in his domain as a trophy, the damned elf!

"My lady?"

Sage turned her eyes to one of the servants, the weight of her glare falling onto the thin, small creature instead of the Thranduil's back.

The elf stepped back in hesitation then swallowed hard and nodded to herself, uttering something under her breath, as if reassuring herself that the king's guest wasn't going to bite her head off, hopefully, and looked back up at the human woman.

"This way, my lady. I will lead you to the guestroom." with new determination in her large brown eyes, the elven maid stepped forth. It was like she was on trial, trying her best to complete her tasks with perfection and taking even the smallest tumble with great disappointment. Tch…typical.

All elves were as such, to them failure was grave, they were used to perfection and completion, which was a grand minus because not everything in life ended with happiness nor even had an ending for that matter. The thought of how they saw life made her loath for them only expand. War was coming and all they thought of was themselves and their perfection and selfishness.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

The question fished her out of her thoughts and she looked down to the elven maid who was glancing to her curiously. There was even a hint of worry powdered over her soft foreign features, but whether it was fake or sincere was another topic for another time.

The monologue in her head had made a physical appearance on her sharp face because the lazy, sleepy expression had darkened in a hateful look. Sage blinked, finally processing the question that had been directed at her, and nodded at the servant in reassurance.

"Am fine, elf." she murmured shortly before yawning and stretching her arms, old and fresh scars showing from beneath the black cloak. A smirk formed on her ashen pink lips when she saw the look of fear on the maid's face as soon as she took a sneak peek at her scarred skin.

Apparently the elf hadn't been out of the kingdom much if something as simple as old wounds scared away the colors from her face.

All the servants complained about how hard their jobs were, let it be elven, dwarven or human. To them their work was the hardest of all and none other could even compare because they would get whipped or be sent to bed without supper if they made a major mistake during their working hours.

Sage mentally laughed.

Those spoiled brats should try her work for a change. They would look at life with another set of eyes if they were able to survive even one daily routine of hers.

She was struggling to literally survive every day and those lousy, cheap, ungrateful bastards were all sulking and just looking for a small corner in which to hide and sleep away the day. They were so lazy, they didn't deserve even half of what they were being paid and they dared to complain even!

"Do they hurt?" the elf asked, her interest getting the best of her, and looked up at Sage, only to bow her head when the woman made eye contact.

"Heh…" the tired bounty hunter scoffed at the sudden lack of formality and the elf had seemingly noticed because she hurried to add the unneeded addressing before she was cut short "Knock off the royalty crap and talk to me like a normal person. I am not your superior."

The maid shrunk away and looked down awkwardly, afraid that any other word that came out of her mouth would trigger another set of harsh words from the human woman.

Sage mentally sighed.

How had this little creature become a maid when she was frailer than a flower? The woman hadn't even yelled at her and the thing was ready to spill heavy tears and run away. Was she supposed to…pet it to make it feel better?

"No, not anymore." she answered, trying to keep the conversation trailing and make the elven maid loosen up and swallow back the mass of discomfort that had gathered in her thin throat "But they did once when they were still fresh."

"The only scars I have are from when I used to cut myself with a knife while preparing food for the daily feasts." the elf looked down at her hands in disapproval, keeping them raised enough for Sage to inspect them before letting them drop to her sides.

The bounty hunter let loose a haggard chuckle.

"Trust me that's a good thing."

A hand went up to pinch the base of her nose and try to calm her bubbling irritation as their walk continued through the massive wooden halls.

The silence that had followed after their conversation she was fine with, and the servant had calmed down as well which was an even bigger plus; however, she still jumped and retreated whenever Sage took a heavier step forward. It was annoying her to no end, but she kept her poisonous tongue behind her teeth, not wanting to worsen the already frightened elf's state. Normally she would laugh at the way the maid reacted, but the day had been long and strenuous and with her having no way of declining Thranduil's caprice the woman was left with barely any tolerance.

It wasn't that the elf aggravated her so much, but she was just too pissed at everything without exclusions and wanted nothing more than to crawl in a bed and snore away the rest of the night.

"We're here, my lady." the little elf bowed and stepped aside, letting the bounty hunter look over her room.

The place was enormous, decorated with stunning engravings on the walls, different woods intertwined in each other, fine wooden furniture and a bed fit for at least three large orcs. The windows were covered by wine colored curtains and the count of candles lighting it up were more than she had ever seen before.

Funny how she measured most things with orcs let it be with their full sizes or just their heads or arms. When young and still with a family to look after her she remembered her father constantly joking about the pale foul creatures that rode on giant wolves and ravaged villages for supplies and entertainment. Maybe it were the sweet-talks of her old man that had subconsciously implanted the orchish measurement in her head or maybe it was because she had seen them up close that gave her the ability to compare them with whatever ornaments she found.

She looked over the guestroom once more.

Was this palace truly a guest's room?

"This is where all of your guests stay?" she turned and looked at the elf that lightly flushed and looked down.

"No! No!...This is where you…will be staying, my lady."

"Ahaaa…" Sage trailed with a hand to her chin and eyes sharpened in wonder.

Well wasn't this convenient.

 **~O~O~O~O~O~**

A low moan rumbled in her strained throat, almost chocking her, but she refused to lift her head up from the wet floor. Her now clean hair lay under her skull, sprawled and lifeless just like her owner, stuck to the wooden ground as the water pressed down on it with ease. Her eyes were closed, barely cracking from time to time to make sure she didn't fall asleep in the bath and potentially drown. Her elbows were on the edge of the tub, water slid down her firm, grazed body, giving it a glossy shine which partly eased the grotesque patterns all breed of monsters had traced over it. She was like an old opened book and each scar, each dot and set of teeth marks were just another story stuffed between her dusty covers. It was true that she had countless tales to tell, adventures, horrifying experiences, heated moments and many more, but no soul to share them with. But she didn't mind, her horse, Alfred, always listened to her. The poor steed didn't really have a say in the matter, but Sage was sure her voice wasn't all that unpleasant; it was durable and so was the rest of her. It was why men in taverns preferred her company over that of their wives or courted lasses.

The woman wasn't easy to approach, but not because she thought of herself as too pristine to speak with mud eating country boys, no, she was just a slightly bit intimidating if one didn't know her already. A large black cloak, cold eyes and a stoic face always drove younglings away, but give her a glass of booze after a long day and you would see her laughing freely and spilling sexual jokes left and right with a hint of red on her cheeks from the alcohol, that is if she felt safe enough to pull her unshaken mask off.

Handfuls of bubbles were floating past her slumped frame, drawing lines in the warm, now murky water just as lazily as she was twirling her fingers a few inches from the surface. The water was warm even after so long without anything to heat it, it actually would have made her wonder how they did it if she wasn't so exhausted. The woman was too relaxed to think straight. Now she was one with her true self – she was a slug.

Her eyes shot open at the sudden, deaf ruckus that came from her bedroom and she turned to see a small, keen shadow sniffing about with rash and uncoordinated movements.

She stirred, disturbing the water for the first in a long while and causing the dirt and junk that had lied on the bottom of the bath to rise and begin a fluent, random dance. Picking up a sword lying next to the large variety of soaps and oils lined up next to the edge of the basin she slipped out of the water, cursing at the coldness that crept over her soaked skin as soon as she did. She should have taken a towel with her, although she had not the slightest idea where they were, or if there even were towels, and truthfully she hadn't expected any company until at least sunrise.

It could be an orc spy trying to find the king's chambers for an ambush or maybe it was an elven thief desperate for something valuable to sell and feed his family. It could be many things, but she preferred to disarm them first and then inspect them and see which of her theories had been right.

She listened intently, hearing perked and eyes wide and sensitive, the muscles on her legs and arms complained painfully from being woken up after the soothing bath, but she ignored them.

The shuffling continued, moving from one end of her bedroom to the other and back as quick feet quietly slapped against the darkly colored floor.

It was too light to be an orc, even a human so she was left with either dwarf or elf and since dwarves weren't know to be the sneakiest of people the only logical explanation was an elf thief or even an assassin.

The grip on her sword tightened and in a flash she jumped, forcing the intruder on their back, the force of the impact stealing away the gasp they had sucked in because of the ambush.

Sage made a face, a sour frown crept upon her thin lips, and refrained from putting a hand over her eyes and shaking her head at her own stupidity. She found herself straddling the elf maid.

"Elbereth." the woman sighed and leaned back, pulling the blade away from the elf's tender neck before being able to scratch and damage it "What are you doing here? Don't you knock?" she continued, the irritation in her voice prominent, although the look on her face was enough to let out how bitterly she felt about the whole preposterous intrusion "I could have killed you…dear Lord."

The elf stuttered out a blur of words, a frantic mishmash of both elven and human, while trying to cover her eyes and red cheeks. She attempted to squirm out of Sage's hold, wiggling her hips and twisting her thin torso, but was left helpless and instead faced away from the woman straddling her, completely red-faced.

"My lady, you are naked."

"Oh…Oh!" the woman laughed apologetically, stood from the maid and offered a hand, but the small elf seemed too embarrassed to even look at her.

Her whole attitude was more than odd and unappealing for a servant girl.

Sage leaned her head to one side and grimaced, her eyebrows locked together as a debate raged inside her head. She was wondering just how much experience the little maid had when it came to be a personal caretaker of someone because she was missing many basic traits, not to mention she was too daring and plain stupid.

"My apologies, elf, but aren't maids used to seeing their proclaimed responsibilities naked?"

The tiny elf scrambled to her feet in a hurry and turned away.

"They are." she cleared her throat a bit too forcefully and took in a deep, shaky breath "But I am new to being someone's personal maid. Please excuse me, my lady, if I have offended you in any way I have done so without any intention."

"Don't apologize, you haven't offended me. Being new is your problem." Sage shrugged "I'm not staying here for long and it is not my business who is new and who isn't."

She placed the blade on a large stand in front of the bed with care, making sure not to drop it nor damage it or the expenses she had paid for it would have gone to waste.

It had been a present from an elderly woman once she had returned her grandchild from dangers of a dark and thick forest. It had been nothing special, just a rusty old sword that had been the only valuable thing in their small, torn down cottage. Despite the lack of gold Sage hadn't minded, she had had money back then and knowing how much the weapon had meant to the old woman and still she was giving it away to a complete stranger was a good reason to cherish it.

She had taken the blade to a blacksmith to reshape, sharpen and engrave her initials in its handle before she even thought of taking it in battle with her. A good amount of coin had been lost for the sword's full renovation, but it had been for a good cause. Now she had a sentimentally valuable weapon, something she had always wanted as a child, as unlikely as the idea of a little girl wanting something so inappropriate it was very true and now she had it and was very fond of it.

A bony hand swiped away the long dark hairs hanging over her face before going down to itch at an almost fully healed wound.

"Why are you here again?"

"I came to bring my lady her nightwear and brush her hair before bed." Elbereth pointed towards the silky gown that was laid on the bed, not daring to turn around and check if her mistress had put it on or not.

"Tc…" Sage picked up the gown with the tip of her forefinger and eyed it disapprovingly; she flicked her tongue at it and pursed her lips "And who…exactly told you to bring it?"

"I was given an order by my superior. I don't know who gave her the order, however." the elf started to nervously scratch the back of her arm and sniffed, having her nose loosen and start to leak, finally submitting to the sudden change of temperature that had gripped her the moment she had escaped the cold halls and had entered the human woman's bedroom "Is my lady dressed yet?"

It was hard caring for someone not of elven blood, representatives of the other races were just so difficult yet open-minded about everything, especially nudity and her mistress was a perfect example. The woman had practically jumped on her completely naked and didn't even flinch, which confirmed Elbereth's supposition that the situation wouldn't have changed a bit if it had been a man inside her chambers and not the young elf. Sage was someone to look upon for her boldness and calmness and the maid would do her best to impress the theoretically famous bounty hunter before she left the castle. That is if she did leave.

Who would even consider parting once inside the kingdom? Here it was safe, their king kept the war away from them, he guarded his people, cared for their safety like a mother for her young. They were provided enough food and water, they were given jobs and earned their payment with fair labor. Everything was fine and honest here while the outside world only carried cruelty and pain. The marks on her responsibility's body were proof of that, but the human woman seemed so carefree and happy with her life constantly on the edge.

Elbereth just didn't understand this woman or her ways of thinking nor her rebellious character.

"No, she isn't dressed, Elbereth, and she doesn't intend to." Sage placed the gown on the maid's shoulder and sat on the bed, clumsily crossing her legs and stretching "Tell your superior I sleep naked."


End file.
